Snow, as created by Slava

Artwork of Slava's Snowshow (Source: Scoop.it)

My usual mantra concerning clowns are that they are always, at best, a necessary evil. In my experience the humour is low-brow, annoying, and ususally serves as padding to the superior action that goes on stage elsewhere in performance. That said, my friend had told me great things about Slava's Snowshow, and I'd previously seen a segment of the act in Cirque du Soleil's Alegría. I know that since I was never going to see snow in London this year, Slava's Snowshow was probably being the closest thing to living in the real thing.

The chorus of forlorn clowns (Source: Slava's Snowshow).

Concieved and written by Slava Polunin, the piece is a series of sketches that are loosely tied together through various esoteric symbolism and themes of loneliness. The humour of the clowns is surprisingly charming, and very sweet, not relying on the usual toilet humour or slapstick. The talent of the performers is awing, who move with adorable choreography and endearing innocence. There is no real language spoken, and instead choreography and music dictate the mood while the performer's movement and  the audience laugh. Only one or two sketches are devoid of humour, the rest are wonderfully original, endearing and whimsical. Particularly entertaining scenes included a hilariously dramatic, repetitive falling off a seat to Mozart's Requiem and the capsizing of a ship which involves sharks doing floor dives among the mist on stage. The piece de resistance is the finale, after a tender and somewhat sorrowful display an elderly clown causes a thunderous snowstorm which sweeps the space with thousands of cut snowflakes. It really is gorgeous and truly magical, and needs to be lived to be believed.

Clowns in a boat sketch (Source: Wikipedia).

Attention could be easily lost in a large theatre but there is also a fair amount of audience interaction, which is just enchanting. A giant spider web passes over the audience, snow falls and sits among the seats and giant spheres lumber across the space, moved by the hands underneath. It's wonderful to watch, but my issue with the piece was that due to where I was sitting it was impossible to be immersed into the action. The piece is clearly made for smaller theatres, since much of this interaction doesn't reach people sitting in the nosebleed seats. While I had a bunch of awful children sitting behind me, I felt bad that they didn't get to be caught in the grand finale and feel any snow, and likewise, everyone who handled the giant bouncing balls had no sense of space and kept hitting them back to the front.

The lighting is gorgeous and sensual, suitably matching the moods of the sketches on stage. The music is also fitting - simplistic, quirky and sweet, however somewhat occasionally tacky. The use of Carmina Burana in the finale is a bit jarring since it feels like some original scoring that isn't so bombastic could have enhanced the magic even more.

It's slow to take off - and at times I wondered why I was there - but at certain points in the piece there is a wonderful whimsical charm to the piece, and once it draws you in you are kept firmly engaged. If you are going to see the piece, make sure you see it up close and in the middle - staying at the side really removes you from the action and it's somewhat disappointing to be watching the spectacle rather than living it. A lot of things contribute to making this an enchanting piece of theatre, and it's easy to see why so many people have been swept away by it.

Slava's Snowshow performed at the Royal Festival Hall from December 17th - January 7th.

Kooza at the Royal Albert Hall

Artwork from Kooza, featuring 'The Trickster' (Source: Group Line).

Talking about Cirque du Soleil is a precarious embarkment these days. My violent love-hate relationship towards the company swings from side to side as a viciously sharpened pendulum, moving like a little boy's favourite yo-yo in the wind on a blustery day. Cirque's annual January engagement this year brings Kooza to the Royal Albert Hall, a show directed by prominent theatre director with many accolades, awards, and experience at directing accomplished multi-million dollar productions ex-clown David Shiner, the mastermind behind Banana Shpeel, who totes the 'art' of clowning to be best thing since sliced bread.

The Innocent. Being Innocent.
It's his thing, yo.
(Source: Cirque du Soleil).

When Kooza opened it was described as "a return to Cirque's roots", which everyone knows is performing without animals and allocating large amounts of stage times to awful clown acts. All in all, Kooza is not as terrible as I was warned it would be - it claims to look at themes of innocence, identity and fear through a barrage of circus acts and a lot of clowning. To some extent it succeeds but a major issue with the show is its nauseating and egregious prominence of clowns, owing to the horrible attempt at making a homage to the 'art'. There are a total of six in the show, which means there is more inane toilet humour and slapstick than any other show in the world. Also, while this show draws Cirque back to its roots, it also falls into the oxymoron that the original Cirque wasn't actually that unique or noteworthy, and it wasn't until almost a decade after its inception that they started their signature fusion of theatre and circus acts which has made them so prominent. But never you mind that - just pay money!

As far as it goes in theatricality, anything is better than Ovo, so while Kooza lacks any serious discussion, its sense of storyline is pretty random, and its mise-en-scène is just a mélange of 'anything goes', it's still somehow enjoyable to watch. The plot focuses on a character called The Innocent (who is, you guessed it, innocent), who is pulled into a "zany kingdom" which is created and ruled by The Trickster (tricky, but also sinister). There's also a bunch of skeletons who turn up for one scene - no one will be able to explain why.

For Kooza, I'm happy to temporarily abandon my insanity and morals, and excuse the quality of the theatrical elements since the acts really blow you away, and there is a distinctly higher calibre of acrobatics and athleticism compared to other Cirque du Soleil productions. Aerial acts including the Highwire and Wheel of Death attracted the biggest applause I've ever heard for Cirque acts, where it was surreal to look around the entire Royal Albert Hall and see everyone clapping furiously. The Mystic Pixies have long departed from the tour, but the trio of tiny Asian women who perform Contortion brought the house down with a similar routine. The two highlights of the evening were the Hoops Manipulation and the Balancing on Chairs. I've wanted to see Irina Akimova's hoops act for years and it was certainly worth the wait (her act is better suited in Delirium, since there was better music and her costume wasn't as hideous), as she spins five hoops while rotating and grinning at the audience, and Yao Deng Bo's serene and languid act shows a mastery of patience and the entire scene is beautifully choreographed. We missed out on the Trapeze, and whoever was managing backstage apparently forgot there is a rotational act (Hand to Hand) that could have replaced it . . .

Akimova's Manipulation act (Source: Tumblr).

I've owned the soundtrack for the show for around five years, and it never dawned on me until I saw the production just how campy the music is. Jean-François Cóté's score is a bizarre fusion of 80's big band, Indian ethnic and pop music, and while certain pieces are beautiful and slow, adding multilayered percussion and REALLY LOUD drums sounds like a gimmick. The main theme, 'L'Innocent' is just . . . wow. It's flaming. It's just the most in your face Cirque score, and I'd have to agree with cynics that usually critics the music since it's very washy material, and with all the kiddies yelling vowels it sounds very childish. Other aspects include Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt's costumes and Florene Cornet's makeup, which are just a clusterfuck of colours and random tassels which blend right into Stéphane Roy's set, a giant bataclan resembling a triple-decker Indian tour bus which is gorgeously revealed.

Despite any criticism, I very much enjoyed the evening, and I think any London theatre viewers who were a bit disillusioned by Totem will enjoy Kooza due to its linearity and superb circus feats. The material performed by clowns is awful, the music is very contrived and the theatricality is lacking, but Kooza has its moments and certainly enchants the audience. At the end of the show the cast get together on stage and yell "Kooza!". Why not?

'Kooza' is also an underwear brand.

Just saying it like it is.

Tickets for Cirque du Soleil's Kooza are £25 - £80, and is showing at The Royal Albert Hall until February 14th. Duration of approximately 2 hours and 30 minutes, including a 30 minute interval. Book by visiting Cirque du Soleil's website.

Adventures Elsewhere

Last week I spent a bit of time up in London, and I wanted to share some happenings.

While we did eat out at a few different places, most of the food in London were delicious sandwiches  from the eighty thousand supermarket chains, usually Tesco or Marks and Spensers. The best place that we came across was a place called Damson Café, which was a really lovely café on St Giles High St. The staff are super friendly without being annoyingly pandering and in addition to delicious coffee, tea and beer selection they serve some great unusual food. Dad and I both had an awesome larger which I've forgotten the name of, but we all had a bowl of the celeriac soup, which was awesome. My grandma tried a carrot cake which was also made with potato - I think I remember reading that potato helps to make the mixture denser and keeping it moister (hehe), and it tasted great.  We were so impressed we went back for a after-breakfast coffee the next day, and I really hope it does well since it was such a nice place, and in terms of pricing compared to Australia it seemed very reasonably priced.

On the note of cakes though, I have to say that the vanilla baked cheesecake (the greatest of all cakes in the world) at Foyles (a staple visit for our family everytime we get to London) was incredible!! It was like a mixture between cheesecake deliciousness and the texture of a chiffon cupcake, impossibly light and very moreish. I want it every minute of my life - it was the most fuck-off incredible cake ever.

Panicking camel. 

Dad and I stopped off at the British Museum to take a look at some of the new exhibits, the feature exhibit that we saw this time were the use of Chinese seals, and their significance and history throughout existence. I really enjoy Oriental artwork and the precision and craft of the works are exquisite. We also walked around and saw the usual Egyptian exhibits, which still amaze me that we're in the same room as something that's 3000 years old - and it's in such good shape. My favourite thing was an exhibit in the Asia region, where we found a perplexing statue of what looked like a distressed camel. Super talent, yo!

I didn't manage to see a lot of theatre, but there isn't much on in London that I was interested in seeing this time. I did manage to go and see In the Republic of Happiness at the Royal Court Theatre, which was really fascinating. I wrote about it at some length here, but the piece is a surreal discussion on the nature of happiness. I managed to run into David at the same performance! I insisted on trying to get a photo since I looked very spiffy and was wearing a tie, but the lighting wasn't so great and the photo turned out with no facial features, and I have no proof that I was actually there with him. The play was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed the music so much I went ahead and ordered a CD of songs from the show. I was going to try and see Uncle Vanya the next night but instead I got caught up buying some new business shirts (to go with my skinnys. Hah. Viva la revolution). When we get back to London next month we're going to see Cirque du Soleil's Kooza (a marginally better production than Ovo), and hopefully another piece (Slava's Snow Show?).

We also went to a lot of music events and concerts. We went to see the London Symphony Orchestra at The Barbican Theatre play the sixth and seventh symphonies by Sibelius, which also included his violin concerto performed with Leonidas Kavakos. The music was striking, very emotive and interesting but I was almost screaming at how tired I was and it was pretty distressing to be sitting down in a cramped position for so long. Someone came up and told me that I was sitting in their seats and all I could do was wail at them until they realised they had the wrong row. On my Dad's birthday we went to a lunchtime concert at Wigmore Hall to see Barry Douglas play some pieces by Brahms. Although he played beautifully and with a lot of feeling, I found it really difficult to enjoy any of the pieces since I was so unfamiliar with them, which was a problem that I also had with an organ recital which we went to in St. Paul's Cathedral. I was glad to go in and see it, because it meant that we got to go into St. Paul's without paying and I'd never been inside, but I found it difficult to engage with.

At the 'conclusion' of Wigmore Hall recital, the audience applauded excessively and Douglas took three bows before sitting down and playing an encore. After which, people clapped while others left, which implies at these sorts of events people pretty much expect an encore, which makes me think that the whole practise is irrelevant and a bit of an oxymoron. In my rage I vowed to myself that if I ever help create a theatre collective/group/company/whatever, I would call it 'Bow Once Theatre', and we would only ever bow once. VIVA LA REVOLUTION.

Me, looking adorable.

While it's not exactly in London, my Mum and I took a trip to Leavesden, where  is where the The Making of Harry Potter Tour at Warner Bros. Studio. Leavesden Studios was (were?) the principal shooting location for the Harry Potters films for over 10 different years, and now, after the incredibly hard task of managing to get to the studios - it took us about three hours to get there - you can now see the sets, costumes and props of the series up close and in their original arrangements. There are a few surprises to be experienced and there is a heap of information on how they manage to film and create certain scenes, including how Quidditch works, which effects are used to create spells, and explaining which scenes and scenery of the films are actually real or rendered. There's also a bunch of other fun things you can do, like walking through Privet Drive, Diagon Alley, and see a scaled down model of Hogwarts Castle. You can also try some 'authentic' Butterbeer, which was very nice but it was chilled, and on such a freezing day I would have preferred it hot (like mine). Although I fell out of love with the Harry Potter films, I used to love them like everyone I know, and I felt extremely nostlagic trotting around scenes from my childhood. Lots of things put me off the films to the extent that I didn't even bother seeing a few cinemas, like trashy hairstyles, bad acting, horrible plot cuts and generally being stupid - but regardless, I did really enjoy the tour overall. It's great value for Harry Potter fans, and you can take as long or short time to go around the studio as you like. Photo opportunities are such a novelty too!

I'm now down in Cardigan with my grandma, where we will celebrate Christmas, New Year and then her 90th birthday. It's a sleepy town, but very relaxing and the days are going surprisingly quickly.

Thoughts In the Republic of Happiness

Promotional artwork for In the Republic of Happiness. (Source: Royal Court Theatre)

Martin Crimp's new piece In the Republic of Happiness is a fascinating and surreal discussion on happiness, exploring what it is and what it has the potential to become. With a fantastic cast, inspired concept, and a score of unexpected songs, the play presents the audience with a play in three phrases - happiness as it is when influenced by environment, how people personally perceive their happiness, and how happiness is dictated by other people.

I should probably preface this with two things, one being the show was still in previews (though unlikely it will change much, as the script is already published and being sold in the lobby). The other being that I was heavily jelagged, and I'd gone to bed about 4pm the previous day, so seeing a show at 7:30pm that ran to 9:30pm was devastating.

Crimp's idiosyncratic writing style is exactly what you'd expect from his plays, with reoccurring motifs, actions and subjects being shared by characters in a script that makes even the most mundane phrase have a sense of significance behind, while it's also crammed full of striking phrases ("I suddenly appeared.", "It's more than that/It doesn't go deep enough.", "I don't think you understand how happy you are."). Both are apparent in the premise of the piece, a slice of life realism and naturalism which quickly descends into the surreal when a bland Christmas dinner becomes propelled by uncomfortable and cracking tension through the arrival of the estranged uncle.

The ensemble during one of the brilliant musical breakdowns
(Source: The Independent). 

The second section abruptly segues the petite house into a sterile talk-show setting, and has the characters transform into representations of their respective age brackets - there's the young, old, middle aged, and 'about 30' year old personalities. Their commentary on achieving the five foundations of happiness is (obviously) reflective of the postmodern zeitgeist, and influenced by politics it's packed with consumerism and self satisfaction. Although the segment eventually loses momentum due to the barrage of repetitive political statements of freedom and happiness, it's a dazzling moment since it manages to be both profoundly uncomfortable but also an intriguing and somehow relatable experience. It's all topped off with bizarre karaoke interjections composed by Roald Van Oosten which are hilarious. The final segment returns to Uncle Bob and Madeleine in another sterile white room, which hints Bob being lost with dementia in a dystopian society. It's the quietest and most perplexing section in the production, and after the conclusion of 'The Happy Song' we're left in darkness to ponder what exactly there was to be happy about.

The ensemble cast, including Anna Calder-Marshall, Michelle Fielding, Seline Hizli, Ellie Kendrick, Stuart McQuarrie,  and Peter Wight, are all just fantastic, perfectly portraying their characters in correlation to their age and political identities with . In particular, Paul Ready as the sinister Uncle Bob is so compelling to watch, and his appearance and presence totally flips the style and mood of the piece. Michelle Terry, playing his wife Madeline, is also just as stunning, furthering the disruption of balance on stage and pushing the family into a deeper level of distress - her sudden break into singing was just hilarious and I adored and wanted to watch the scene over and over again.

In the Republic of Happiness is an intriguing and compelling production which examines happiness in a way unlike I've ever seen before. It's not Crimp's strongest work in that, compared to Attempts on her Life or The Country, it didn't manage to engage me for the whole duration, most notably in the middle which seems to meander too long on too many political issues. However attention is maintained through the excellent songs, and the opening scene is Crimp's typically brilliant style of hybridised naturalism with surrealism with many intelligent and humorous lines, and the pensive and unsettling ending leaves a profound impact in that is just baffling. I still maintain that Crimp is one of Britain's best postmodern playwrights, and although it's not easy to sit through it some times I recommend this piece just as much as any other of his previous works. It's poetic, brooding and compelling, and will leave you considering it for days.

Tickets for Martin Crimp's In the Republic of Happiness are £10 - £28, and is showing at Royal Court Theatre until January 17th. Duration of approximately 110 minutes. Book by visiting Royal Court Theatre's Official Website.